


dying young and I'm playing hard

by Lise



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Altered Mental States, Amnesia, Consent Issues, Extremely Dubious Consent, M/M, Mind Manipulation, Protective Thor (Marvel), Sakaar (Marvel), Sakaar Trash Party, Sexual Content, due to that whole 'amnesia' thing, i'm having fun and that's what matters, the Grandmaster is still having a great time though, things are not working out so well for Loki, things get better in chapter two sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-24
Updated: 2018-04-24
Packaged: 2019-04-27 11:45:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14424717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lise/pseuds/Lise
Summary: Thor, Lord of Thunder? Loki's never heard of him.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Someone prompted me for a "protective" prompt on Tumblr: "I'm pretty sure this is totally against the spirit of the meme, but: "I'll always be there to save you" / "I know you'll always be there to save me" with Loki and the Grandmaster." 
> 
> My response was this: "you say “against the spirit of the meme” I say “SOUNDS LIKE CREEPY FUN” so here have a thing, aka 1.7k of the dubious Frostmaster nonsense that is apparently now part of my brand™"
> 
> And then [someone](http://led-lite.tumblr.com) enabled me into writing a _second_ chapter, which got long, so...now it's over here. Two chapters of amnesiac Loki on Sakaar. Everyone's gotta write at least one, right? This'll probably be the last fic under the wire before Infinity War comes out and wrecks everything. 
> 
> Copious thank yous to my [wonderful beta](http://ameliarating.tumblr.com), who betas for me like it's her second day job.

The new contender Scrapper-142 had brought in was shouting his name. Loki smiled at his companions apologetically and excused himself, rising to walk over to the Grandmaster. “Hey, sweetheart,” he said. “Do you know him? Calls himself Thor, Lord of Thunder.”

“ _God_ of Thunder,” the contender growled.

Loki glanced at him, scanning his face, and then shrugged. “I’ve never seen this man before in my life.”

His eyes bugged out of his head. “I’m your _brother,_ ” he said, and Loki had to laugh.

“That’s absurd,” he said, mostly to the Grandmaster. “I’ve never had a brother.”

The Grandmaster patted him on the shoulder. “I didn’t think so,” he said. “But, well, thought I’d check-”

“ _Loki,_ ” the contender hissed. He looked both enraged and alarmed and Loki took a step back in spite of himself. “Stop - you know very well who I am-”

Loki glanced at the Grandmaster. “Is he quite sane?”

“I have no idea,” the Grandmaster said. “Are you?”

“Am I _sane?_ Of course I’m _sane._ ” The contender’s expression flickered, looking back and forth between them. Unconsciously, Loki drew a little closer to the Grandmaster. Something prickled uneasily at the back of his mind.

“Ah, well then,” the Grandmaster said. “What do you think, Lo? Should we keep him?”

Loki gave him a little smile. “You’re asking _my_ opinion?”

“Well, not really.” The Grandmaster beamed at him, tilting Loki’s chin up to plant a kiss on his mouth. Loki heard the contender make a strangled noise. “Go on, then. We’ll see how you do at tomorrow’s games, eh?”

“Loki!” This _Thor_ shouted again, and he was startled enough to glance over at him. “Listen to me! You are-”

“That’s enough of that,” the Grandmaster said dismissively, and Thor’s voice cut off as the obedience disk triggered.

Even after he was gone, Loki felt…unsettled by the whole thing. That lingering feeling of something nagging at him. But the Grandmaster stroked his cheek and the thought vanished.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he said. “Relax. Don’t tell me you’re letting that silly Lord of Thunder’s nonsense get to you.”

“No,” Loki said, smiling. “No, of course not.”

* * *

Lying on his back in a post-coital haze, Loki stared up at the ceiling.

“What’s got you looking so unhappy, Lo-lo?” The Grandmaster asked. “You _know_ how I hate seeing a frown on that pretty face.”

“Why would he call me his brother?” Loki asked.

“He was trying to use you, obviously,” the Grandmaster said. “Everyone knows you’re my _favorite._ ”

Loki felt himself flush with pleasure, a warm little tingle going down his spine. “But it’s such a strange lie,” he said, after a moment. “And wouldn’t it - wouldn’t it make more sense to try to act like he was happy to see me?”

The Grandmaster shrugged. “People are funny,” he said. “They say funny things.” He tapped Loki’s nose with a finger. “Put it out of your mind, sweet thing.”

“But…”

The Grandmaster’s finger paused, still resting on his nose. “Oh, dear. You’re not…you know I don’t like ‘but’s.”

Loki glanced sidelong at the Grandmaster, a nervous little thrill tingling in his chest for a moment before it faded. He knew the Grandmaster wouldn’t hurt him. He was his _favorite._ “It just seems strange,” he said. “That’s all. And something about him…”

The Grandmaster frowned. “You’re really - worked up about this, aren’t you?” He didn’t sound pleased. “Lo. Don’t _worry_ about it.” He shifted, reaching out and trailing his fingers along Loki’s jaw. “Besides, even if he _was…_ what does it matter? The past is the past. Life starts fresh on Sakaar - and you’ve got it _made,_ don’t you? I give you - everything your little heart desires.”

“You do,” Loki said, and just bit back the _but._

The Grandmaster pressed two fingers to Loki’s lips. “Forget about him,” he said. “You’re going to give yourself some frown lines. Nobody wants _that._ He’ll be gone in a few days, besides.”

Loki frowned, some part of him deep down murmuring _no, I don’t want…_

But why not?

The Grandmaster rolled over and drew Loki into a slow, lazy kiss, tongue sliding into his mouth. Loki sank into it, thoughts of Thor slipping out of his mind along with the distant sense of unease. He pushed up toward him with a soft sound, body warming, only for the Grandmaster to pull away suddenly.

“I gotta go, honeybunch,” the Grandmaster said, patting his chest. “You rest up. I want you bright-eyed and bushy-tailed tomorrow morning.”

Loki gave him a plaintive look. “Really?”

“Really really,” the Grandmaster said, smiling at him. “I have other things to do than - well, _you,_ you know. “You just…take it easy, get comfortable…see you soon, sweetheart.”

Loki sighed and settled back into the bed. “You’d better make it up to me later.”

“Ooh,” the Grandmaster said. “Demanding, eh? Very…bold. Keep that attitude. We’ll have some fun with it later.”

Loki watched him go and let his eyes drift closed, suddenly very tired. He hadn’t been planning to sleep, but…maybe just a little nap.

* * *

He woke up with someone’s hand over his mouth. He jerked immediately upright, lashing out, but they caught his arm and twisted it behind his back.

“If you’re play-acting,” growled a half familiar voice, “you had better stop now, Loki.”

Loki bit down, hard, on the hand covering his mouth, and screamed when it jerked back, thrashing wildly. His foot connected with something solid and he heard his attacker grunt.

“Dammit,” he said. He slapped something against Loki’s neck and-

Oh, that _hurt._ The Grandmaster had played with something like this…once. Loki hadn’t particularly enjoyed it then, either, and the setting on that one must have been quite a bit lower. When he could think again, he was slung upside down over someone’s shoulder as they jogged down a hallway. His kidnapper had put a robe on him in a bizarre demonstration of modesty.

He started fighting immediately. Pulling one of his knives, he slammed it into his kidnapper’s back somewhere in the region of his kidneys, trying to fling himself free. He shouted as Loki dropped off his shoulder and rolled to his feet.

It was Thor, the new contender. The one who had called Loki his brother.

“I don’t want to fight you,” he said, “but we are getting out of here.”

Loki bared his teeth. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“I’m sorry,” Thor said, sounding genuinely apologetic. The obedience disc he’d attached to Loki’s neck went off again. Thor caught him before he dropped, pulling Loki’s knife out of his back and dropping it on the floor. “Whatever that madman’s done to you-”

“Let me go,” Loki forced out, muscles spasming. “The Grandmaster will hunt you down, he’ll find me-”

“I almost hope he does,” Thor growled. “I’ll rip his head off.”

Loki sucked air into his lungs and screamed again. _No,_ he thought. _No, you can’t-_

He threw Loki back over his shoulder and started running. He made it maybe ten more steps before letting out a strangled sound and collapsing, sending Loki sprawling to the floor. He scrambled to his feet.

Loki stared down at Thor for a moment, twitching on the ground, and then stumbled back. The Grandmaster caught him as he tripped, almost falling. “Hey,” he said, “hey, now, it’s all right.”

“He was trying to _kidnap_ me,” Loki said, feeling vaguely hysterical. “He was going to take me away-”

“Shh,” the Grandmaster said. “He didn’t get far, did he? You’re not going anywhere, pet.”

Loki took another heaving breath. It came out shaky, too close to tears. He turned toward the Grandmaster and accepted being pulled close, his face in his shoulder as the Grandmaster petted his hair.

“I’ll make sure this…ah, miscreant is taken care of. We’ll see what he thinks of our champion, how about that? That’s it, sweetheart. Deep breaths.”

Loki nodded weakly, leaning into him.

“Take your hands off him,” he heard Thor say, and flinched, pressing closer.

“I will most certainly _not,_ ” the Grandmaster said. “Why, look what you’ve done. He’s gone all to _pieces._ ” Loki felt a distant twinge of embarrassment, but he was so - _unsteady_ that mostly he was just grateful for the solidity of the Grandmaster shielding him.

“Whatever you’ve done to him,” Thor said, voice harsh, “it won’t last. Loki’s too strong to remain so bewildered for long.”

“Such nonsense,” the Grandmaster said.

“You did this,” Thor said. “You - _let_ me go, didn’t you, so you could pretend to _rescue_ Loki-”

“I think you’ve caused poor Lo-lo enough upset for one night,” the Grandmaster said smoothly. He heard Thor cry out in pain and squeezed his eyes closed.

His head hurt and his stomach twisted. His heart was still racing. Something felt _wrong,_ still, even though it was over.

The Grandmaster patted his back. “Let’s go back to my room, huh? Lie down, have a bit of a constitutional…it’s all okay now. You’ve got nothing to worry about, sweet thing.” He tucked some of Loki’s hair behind his ear. Something tingled and the headache faded a little, the sense of _wrongness_ with it.

“Nothing to worry about,” he echoed.

“That’s right.” The Grandmaster squeezed the back of his neck. “Because you’re safe here, hmm-mm? You’re safe with me.”

“Yes,” Loki said faintly.

The Grandmaster tangled his fingers in Loki’s hair and pulled his head back so he was looking him in the eyes. “You know I’ll always be there to save you,” he said soothingly, and Loki smiled, feeling oddly dazed.

“I know.”


	2. Chapter 2

The Grandmaster wasn’t happy. 

His champion hadn’t killed the Lord of Thunder after all - apparently, of all things, they _knew_ each other. And the champion had asked the Grandmaster to keep him, and because the Grandmaster hated saying no to his favorite contender…

Loki had slept poorly, woken shivery and panicky, heart pounding with the urge to run. It’d taken the Grandmaster a half hour and a full glass of tonic to settle him again and calm the hysteria clawing at his throat. He couldn’t remember what he’d been dreaming of. 

“Poor thing,” the Grandmaster cooed over him, Loki’s head in his lap as he shivered through the adrenaline crash. “See what that brute’s done to your delicate nerves? But you’re safe now, sweetheart. I _promise._ ”

Loki nodded, shakily. “I know,” he said miserably. “I’m sorry.”

The Grandmaster sighed. “Don’t be sorry, sweetheart.” He held the glass to Loki’s lips. “Here. Have just a bit more.”

Loki found a smile. “Are you trying to get me drunk?”

“Why would I need to?” The Grandmaster said lightly, brushing hair off Loki’s forehead. “You’re already in my bed, aren’t you?” 

Loki turned his head to nuzzle against the Grandmaster’s thigh. He made a pleased purring sound, twining Loki’s hair around his hand to give it a little tug. 

“Don’t tempt me,” he said, in a tone of voice that clearly said he wanted tempting. Loki’s smile felt a little more genuine, relaxing into something he knew how to do. Uncomplicated. 

And it might help cheer up the Grandmaster. And making _him_ happy made _Loki_ happy. And meant he didn’t have to think about anything else.

Which meant not having to think about the strange, nauseated feeling every time he thought about Thor.

* * *

Loki slept late the next morning and woke up on his own in a snarl of sheets. He stretched, took a lengthy shower, and threw on a robe. Really, he couldn’t remember what he’d been so upset about. It’d all been...very foolish. And _embarrassing._

He’d have to make it up to the Grandmaster later. Thank him for his indulgence, and his patience. 

Examining himself in the mirror, neatening the liner around his eyes, he almost jumped at the sound of knocking and promptly laughed at himself. “Oh, yes,” he murmured to his reflection. “Assuredly a would-be kidnapper would knock politely first.” 

He checked to be sure the robe was more or less covering him one last time before walking over to open the door.

“Oh,” he said, with a startled smile. “Scrapper-142. What an...unexpected pleasure.” She didn’t smile back, pushing past him and stepping inside. Loki frowned at her back. 

“Don’t strain yourself,” she said. “Is En Dwi around?” 

“No,” Loki said. “I’m afraid he’s out.” He raised his eyebrows. “If you’d like me to pass a message on…”

“No,” she interrupted. “Thanks. That’s fine.” She strode over to the bar and pulled out one of the bottles, taking a swig directly from it. 

“I don’t think,” he started to say, frown deepening. 

“Shut up,” she said, and muttered something under her breath. It sounded a great deal like _I can’t believe this._

“Excuse you,” Loki said, offended. “I don’t believe that’s yours.” She drained the rest of the bottle and swiped her hand over her mouth, turning back toward him. 

“Right,” she said. “I’d apologize, but…”

“Apologize for,” Loki said, which was about when she punched him in the throat. He choked, wheezing, and she took that moment to swing something heavy into the side of his head. 

* * *

Sound came back first, drilling into his ears like another blow to the head.

“--hard did you hit him?” Loki heard someone bellow. It took him a moment to recognize whose voice it was. When he had it, his heart rabbited nervously and he held perfectly still. His temple throbbed where Scrapper-142 had clubbed him, and he was gagged. And bound, hands and ankles along with something wrapped around his body, pinning his arms to his sides.

What was she _thinking?_ Had she gone mad?

“He’ll be fine,” she said defensively. “I couldn’t afford to miscalculate and give him the chance to start yelling.”

“You almost cracked his skull!” 

“But I _didn’t._ You’re welcome, by the way.” Scrapper-142 sighed loudly. “I need a drink. And _you_ need to start thinking about what you’re going to do when he comes around, because he’s not going to be happy.”

“You said those chains-” 

“Yeah, they’ll hold him. But you’re going to have to take that gag off to feed him eventually, I assume.” 

He’d heard enough. Loki opened his eyes and squirmed to draw attention to himself. They both turned from each other to stare at him: Scrapper-142 annoyed and Thor…

His stomach flipped anxiously. 

“Loki,” he said, and took a step toward him. Loki imagined he had his knives and tried with all his might to communicate _you’ll regret this, take me back right now._ Scrapper-142 snorted. 

“If looks could kill,” she said. Thor shot her a nasty look. 

Since when were _they_ friends? Or - whatever they were. 

“Loki,” Thor said again. “Listen to me. I can’t...let you go. Not right now. You might not believe me, but you’re not yourself.”

_Of course I’m myself,_ Loki thought angrily. _I’m not the madman_ kidnapping _people, here-_

“You’ve been - drugged,” Thor went on, apparently undeterred by his glare. “What’s the human word for - brainwashed. The Loki I know-”

_You don’t know me,_ Loki thought, hysteria bubbling up in his chest. _I’ve never seen you before. Why do you think you know me? What do you even_ want _from me?_

“I don’t think he believes you,” Scrapper-142 said. Thor turned another ugly glare on her. 

“Do _you_ think you could do better?” 

“Sure.” Scrapper-142 leaned forward a little. “Hey, Loki. Where’d you come from?” 

Loki made a muffled noise, reminding her that he couldn’t exactly answer. 

“Yeah, okay, hold that thought. You don’t have to tell me. _I_ already know. Do you?” 

The dull ache where she’d hit him intensified. Loki shook his head like he could get rid of it. It didn’t matter, did it? Nothing before Sakaar mattered. Why did he need to know anything about where he came from when he was _here,_ when he sat in the lap of luxury, the Grandmaster’s favorite-

(Something, somewhere in his mind, whispered _favorite plaything._ The moment he thought it, though, it was gone.)

“No?” Scrapper-142 said. “You don’t know? Weird, huh? Almost like someone wanted you to forget.” 

_Someone._ He knew who she meant and he didn’t like it. It made him feel - _sick,_ that implication, that the Grandmaster would...would what? And why? He stared at her, hoping it communicated his displeasure. And indignation. 

“So much for that,” Scrapper-142 said. 

“This is ridiculous,” Thor said. “How do we fix this?” 

“We can’t,” Scrapper-142 said. “You just have to wait for him to...dry out.”

“And how long will that take?” Thor stared at Loki, frowning. “If I remove the gag,” he said, “will you swear not to scream?” 

Scrapper-142 gave him an incredulous look. “Really? That’s your plan?”

“Would anyone think much of screams coming out of your rooms?” Thor said, and then turned back to Loki. “Well?” 

He assessed his options. Depending on where he was, Thor was right: it was entirely possible screaming wouldn’t do any good. Maybe it would be better to just...keep his mouth shut and bide his time. 

He nodded, slowly. 

“You do swear,” Thor clarified. Loki nodded again, and Thor stepped forward slowly, untying the gag and pulling it away. 

Loki worked his jaw and looked at Scrapper-142 when he said, “if you let me go now I’ll argue for leniency for you.” 

“I’m pretty sure it’s a little late for that,” she said. “I’m committed now, and I’m really not interested in getting melted.” 

Loki pressed his lips together and looked back at Thor, nervously, who was looking at him with a strangely pained expression. 

“You really don’t remember anything,” he said. 

“I remember plenty,” Loki said sharply. (Defensively.) 

“But you don’t remember me.” 

“I don’t know who you think I am,” Loki said tightly. His headache just kept getting _worse._ “Or who you think _you_ are, but I don’t have a brother-”

“If you don’t remember anything about where you came from before Sakaar, how would you know?” Thor interrupted. “That - _bastard -_ has been drugging you, using magic on you-”

Loki tensed. “If you mean the Grandmaster, he’s been nothing but good to me. Generous. Kind.”

Scrapper-142 made an undignified snorting sound. “Gast is a lot of things, but _generous_ and _kind_ aren’t any of them,” she said. Loki bristled, and she raised her eyebrows. “What? I’m right.” 

“Maybe not to _you,_ ” Loki sneered. “But to me-”

Thor made a growling sound in the back of his throat and Loki cut off, a touch of alarm breaking through the nausea and dull pounding in his head. “I’m going to rip his limbs off,” he said to Scrapper-142, and Loki’s eyes widened, jerking back. “Not yours,” he added, expression flickering oddly.

“I don’t recommend trying,” she said. “Look. Your best bet is just to give it time. It can’t take more than a week or so for him to shake off most of it.”

“A _week?_ I can’t take a week,” Thor said, sounding anguished. 

“Do you want to try dragging him out of here like _this?_ ”

“Neither of you are dragging me anywhere,” Loki hissed. “When I get free you are going to regret this-”

“Oh, shut up,” Scrapper-142 said. “Put the gag back on, Thor. I don’t want to listen to this.” 

Thor sat down and did not put the gag back on. “I’m sorry,” he said, oddly. “I don’t want things to be like this.”

“Like what,” Loki snapped. “You kidnapping me? Twice?” 

“In fairness, the second time was me,” Scrapper-142 said. She seemed to have found a bottle somewhere, and was busy emptying it. 

Thor shook his head. “You’ll understand soon.” 

Loki’s spine prickled uneasily, his stomach twisting into knots. “Will I?”

“I hope,” Thor said, but under his breath, so Loki wasn’t sure he was meant to hear. 

* * *

Time dragged by. Loki strained his ears, hoping to hear some kind of announcement that he was missing, some sort of search, but heard nothing. Thor kept staring at him with that hungry look in his eyes. If Loki knew what he _wanted_ maybe he would have tried to give it to him, but he didn’t know enough to pretend to “remember” some fabricated past. 

That even if he _wanted_ to play this madman’s game, which he didn’t. 

“I need to piss,” he announced, finally. Thor stopped pacing. 

“All right,” he said, slowly. 

“You’re going to at least have to remove _some_ of these so I can do that,” Loki said, moving his arms so the heavy chains - which seemed to have the side-effect of dampening his magic - clanked loudly. 

“Don’t,” Scrapper-142 said. Loki gave her a disgusted look.

“What were you thinking,” he said, “that you’d remove my pants for me and watch? I may be a libertine, but I have my limits.” 

Thor winced. “It would only be for a moment,” he said to the scrapper. “And I’d stay close by.”

“I’m telling you it’s a stupid idea,” she said. “But you’re going to ignore me and do it anyway, so I don’t know why I bother.” 

Thor did, in fact, ignore her. He dragged Loki unceremoniously to his feet. Loki waited meekly for him to unwind the chains around his torso, seething inwardly at the indignity of all of this. 

But he went into the bathroom without putting up a fight, starting to push the door closed with his (still bound) hands. Thor caught it. 

“Not all the way,” he said, and closed it so there was just a crack of light showing before pulling back.

Loki lunged and slammed it the rest of the way closed and locked it, looking frantically around the bathroom for something he could use for a weapon. Thor shouted and banged against the door. 

“Loki!” He said. There was no sign of anything that would work as a weapon, so he turned toward looking for something that might help him get rid of these manacles. 

“I told you so,” the scrapper said. Thor slammed into the other side of the door and Loki felt it move in the frame. He started swearing, trying to get a look at what the lock mechanism even was. “I’m just saying. I _did_ say this was going to happen.” 

_There._ An empty glass bottle by the toilet. It wasn’t much of a weapon, and wouldn’t get him out of these chains, but if he broke it and went for the throat…

“Okay,” Scrapper-142 said. “I think I’ve made my point.”

He glanced at the door and lunged for the bottle. 

The disc he hadn’t noticed was attached to his neck went off. 

Thor was kneeling down next to him, looking aggrieved. “You didn’t need to do that,” he said. “And you can turn it off now.” 

Thankfully, Scrapper-142 seemed to listen to that. Loki stared at Thor with all of the loathing he could muster. 

“This isn’t you,” Thor said. “You are Loki. Son of Odin, prince of Asgard.” 

A shudder went through him and Loki’s heartbeat picked up. “You won’t trick me,” he said, and couldn’t understand the strangely desperate note in his own voice. “I am loyal. I would never turn against the Grandmaster. He loves me.” 

Thor’s jaw clenched, anger flashing across his features. “He’s _toying_ with you! He treats you like a - like a _pet_ -”

Loki bristled. “I am not a pet!” 

“That’s exactly what you are!” Thor said. “A pretty pet for him to dress up and play with until he gets tired of you and then he’ll toss you aside.” 

Panic clawed at Loki’s throat. “He won’t - he wouldn’t-” _Get rid of me, he wouldn’t throw me away, I’m good I’m good-_

“Now look what you did,” Scrapper-142 said. “You’re giving him an anxiety attack.” 

“If you won’t _help,_ ” Thor said, and then more quietly, sounding like he was trying to soothe, “Loki, _breathe._ You’re fine.” 

_It’s not fine,_ Loki thought wildly. _It’s not going to be fine until I’m back with him._

“You don’t need him,” Thor said, like he’d heard Loki. “It isn’t - he’s a madman. He doesn’t care about you.”

“He does,” Loki said desperately. “I was - I didn’t have anything before he took me in-”

“That’s not true! _Try_ to remember-”

His head throbbed. His heart was galloping.

“Maybe we should just knock him out,” Valkyrie said. “Drug him until his system clears. I don’t think trying to talk him out of this is going to work.”

Loki curled into himself. “Go away,” he said. “Stop talking. You’re a liar and I am not going to listen to you.”

Thor sighed, but Loki heard him back away. “All right,” he said quietly. “All right. I’ll leave it. But...just think about what I’ve said.”

Loki closed his eyes and focused on breathing.

* * *

Since neither of them seemed inclined to listen to him, Loki had decided to take on sullen silence as his method of declaring his displeasure. Unfortunately, that seemed to have little to no impact, and he was beginning to feel markedly uncomfortable. 

“Can one of you open a window?” Loki asked crossly. “It’s too hot in here.”

They’d been talking quietly to each other - too quietly for him to hear. Thor turned sharply around when he spoke, however. 

“Too hot?” He said, frowning. 

“Yes,” he said, and added, “and it smells foul. A bit of a breeze would be a marvelous thing.” 

Thor and Scrapper-142 glanced at each other. “He’s always overheated easily,” Thor said. 

“Or it could be starting,” Scrapper-142 said. Loki stiffened. 

“ _What_ could be starting?” 

“Your body purging whatever’s swimming around in your bloodstream,” she said. “It’d be pretty fast, but then you’ve got magic, so that probably helps.” 

Loki set his teeth. “I’m perfectly sober,” he said.

“Uh huh,” Valkyrie said. “We’ll see, I guess. What’re you going to bet?” 

Loki worked some moisture back into his mouth. He was thirsty, he had a headache, and he wanted to be back in bed, or soaking in the baths. _I’ll always be there to save you,_ he’d said, but where was he _now?_

“Do you remember anything?” Thor said, sounding hopeful. Loki glared at him. 

“I remember plenty. I remember you dragging me out of bed, slapping an obedience disk on me - _twice._ Dragging me here, in chains, insulting me and the Grandmaster-”

Thor exhaled loudly and shook his head. “So, no, then.”

“Certainly not what you seem to think I ought to.” A wave of dizziness washed over him, and a brief throb behind his eyes. He was sweating - he could feel it dampening the thin robe that was all he’d been wearing when Scrapper-142 had snatched him away. 

Thor studied him, frowning. “You don’t look well.” 

“I wonder why,” Loki snapped. 

Thor glanced at Scrapper-142. “Is he in danger?” 

“I have no idea. I’ve never watched anyone detox from this kind of thing before.”

Thor’s eyes widened. “So you have no idea if this is _safe?_ ” 

“Nothing is safe, on Sakaar,” she said. “Would you rather we’d left him where he was?” 

“I am right _here,_ ” Loki hissed. And if he wasn’t feeling exactly his _best,_ well, a madman and a thug had kidnapped him and chained him up so that he could barely move. Under those circumstances, no one would be at their best.

He shifted, trying to get comfortable, but it didn’t work. 

Thor was frowning at him again. Loki glared at him.

“Are you,” Thor started to say, and then stopped. Loki fidgeted again, narrowing his eyes. 

“Am I what?” 

Thor opened his mouth and then closed it, looking away. “Never mind.” 

“Looking a bit antsy there,” Scrapper-142 said. Loki scowled at her, too. 

“You have had me _bound in chains_ for hours. Of course I’m restless.” 

The scrapper pursed her lips, glanced at Thor, and looked back at him. “That why you’re turned on, too?” 

Loki’s eyes bugged. He stared at her, opening his mouth to say that he was _not,_ she didn’t have any cause to be obscene, if she thought he was enjoying this-

Except now that she said it, he realized that the itch he was feeling wasn’t just restlessness or anxiety. And what he was chasing wasn’t just a comfortable position, but something to soothe the vague, pulsing, need burning in his stomach. 

He felt heat rising into his face and stared at her in humiliated indignation. She actually looked away. “Sorry. I thought you knew.” 

“I don’t - I’m not-” Loki shifted again, or started to, and made himself hold still. Now he was _aware_ of the itch that wanted scratching, he couldn’t help but start _thinking_ about it, and _he didn’t want to be here, he wanted to be back in his room, in his bed-_

A shiver crawled down his spine. 

“Awfully neat,” Scrapper-142 said quietly. 

“What?” 

“Take away memories and make someone dependent on you as a source of affection and care. Then drug them with something that increases - appetites. Easy way to control someone. Drown them in pleasure and they’ll never think about anything else.” 

She was talking about him, and he wanted to shout about how wrong she was. The Grandmaster _cared_ about him. He _wanted_ Loki, and wherever he’d been before hadn’t, hadn’t cared about him, that was why he was here. _Sakaar is where lost things come to be found, Lo. We found you, and you’re mine now._ Loki tried again, pointlessly, to reach for his magic. This time, his head throbbed, behind his eyes and at the top of his spine. For a second, his vision doubled, then steadied. 

“I’m going to tear off his arms and beat him to death with them,” Thor growled. 

“Don’t,” Loki said, the word almost breathless. “You’ll be killed-”

But why would that matter? Why _should_ it matter? Thor was going to be dead anyway, when the Grandmaster got him back. 

Why did that thought jar something panicky loose in his chest?

He couldn’t _think._ And he still - wanted. 

Loki wondered wildly what would happen if he asked one of _them_ to get him off. _Naughty,_ he almost heard the Grandmaster whisper in his ear, and that just made it worse. 

Thor was looking at him with a strange expression on his face. “Loki?” He said, sounding uncertain.

“Get away from me,” Loki snarled. “Leave me _alone._ ”

Thor opened his mouth and withdrew. Loki almost regretted yelling at him. Now he didn’t have any distractions at all from the fact that he wanted to be sprawled somewhere having filthy things done to him. 

He was starting to feel - _confused_ , and he didn’t like it. 

* * *

The headache spread, and got worse. He fought it off for a long time, but then he started crying from the pain, and the helplessness, and the fact that he was turned on and couldn’t do anything about it, and the fact that something was _happening_ to him, like the worst hangover he’d ever had. Worse than after the night with the fifty Luphomoids. 

Norns, thinking about that was making the low pulse of arousal flare up again, just as he’d thought it was under control.

Nothing was staying clear. He kept thinking the Grandmaster was going to come for him, he’d free Loki and save him and these two _ruffians_ would be melted down into puddles of goo--

Why was the thought of that troubling? He couldn’t be starting to believe Thor’s absurd nonsense already. Except that there was something whispering at the back of his mind, tugging at him, saying _but what if he’s telling the truth?_

_Why would he drug you?_

“Let me use my magic,” he said abruptly. 

“No,” Thor said promptly. “Do you think we’re that stupid?” 

“Possibly,” Loki said peevishly, “but that’s not the point.” 

“What is?” 

_I need to see proof that this interference you claim isn’t there. I need to know that you’re wrong. About me. About him._ Loki pressed his lips together, and Thor sighed. “Can you just - ease the binding a little? I don’t need to use much,” Loki said. 

“Remember what I said last time,” Scrapper-142 lowly, “about freeing him being a stupid idea? Remember how I was right?” 

Thor sighed again. “I remember,” he said, and shook his head at Loki. “No.” 

“I want to know that you’re lying.” Loki raised his chin. “I am going to see if _I_ can find this - _interference_ you’re telling me is there. And when I can’t-”

Thor glanced at the scrapper, who cocked her head to the side. 

“That’s probably good, actually,” she said. “He’s questioning. Better than before.”

Thor frowned. “I want your word,” he said. “That that is _all_ you are going to do.” 

Loki hesitated. A word was nothing. A word was cheap as coin on Sakaar. But… “I promise,” he said. “That is all I am going to do.” 

“Swear on something that matters to you.” 

“On my life,” Loki said. Oddly enough, Thor twitched. “I will _only_ do this one thing.” And when he was right - when he was right, he could stop thinking about this and go back to planning his escape. And maybe this damned _headache_ would stop. 

Thor turned a setting on the cuffs binding his hands together, slowly. Loki flexed his fingers, drew on his magic, and turned inward. It took inordinate focus, but he could still _do_ it. Push through the pain. Focus. 

He came up short, because he could see it. Foreign magic, threaded through his mind, and he recognized the strange tingle of it against his senses. Something in his chest seized. 

_It’s nothing,_ he thought. _For your own protection,_ but when he brushed against one of those threads his head throbbed viciously enough that he cried out, jarred abruptly back to himself. 

“What happened?” Thor asked, eyebrows knit together with worry. Loki stared at him for a moment, then plunged back down. 

The Grandmaster would never hurt him. Never do anything to him that was - bad. Wouldn’t he? 

So it...it couldn’t matter if he undid this magic. Just in case. And then - and then he could be sure. 

It hurt. It _hurt,_ something deep and wrong throbbing inside his head. He hissed out but held on, pulling on one of those tendrils like it was a splinter, trying to ease it free. It tugged back and he pulled harder. 

It slithered out with a burst of white-hot pain behind his eyes. 

“What’s happening?” He heard Thor ask, somewhere far away. 

“I have no idea,” Scrapper-142 said. “Some magic thing?” 

Something, Loki was certain now, had gone wrong with whatever the Grandmaster had done. Whatever he’d meant to do, it wasn’t right, it needed to be - removed, so it could be fixed. ( _But he never does anything wrong,_ a voice whispered, and countering it, _that would mean he meant to do this to you._ )

Do _what?_

He started work on another thread, untangling it from his self a little at a time. The ache at the base of his skull intensified to a red pain that seemed to beat against his senses. He could feel himself breathing hard, but he almost had it, _almost,_ and if he could just finish this everything would be fine, would make sense again.

“His nose is bleeding,” he heard Thor say, sounding distressed. Thor. There was something about Thor he ought to know but he couldn’t remember-

“No, wait. I think this is good.”

Close. So close. He could feel the spell dissolving, decaying, though it was still _very_ strong. The Grandmaster would be so proud of him for working this out. So proud-

Why did that idea not please him as it should?

The last thread gave with a _snap_ that he almost felt, like a bowstring snapping against a bare wrist, and his head exploded.

* * *

He remembered - everything. _Everything._

Knocked out of the Bifrost. Falling through the Void, the Grandmaster’s voice cooing _oh, I like you,_ memory bleeding away until he could barely recognize himself. Exactly what Thor had called him: a pet. A doll to be dressed up and played with. 

Thor. His brother, who he’d looked at and hadn’t known. Who could have been _killed_ while Loki lounged and drank and how the Grandmaster must have been laughing--

With the power keeping him _docile_ removed (and it must have weakened, without the Grandmaster renewing it), Loki’s own defenses kicked in and seared the drugs painfully out of his blood. 

That part he didn’t remember. He only knew because he woke up feeling disgustingly, painfully, sober.

His head was swimming, seemingly full of fog. Thor’s worried face was clear enough, though, and when his gaze drifted sideways…

Loki’s eyes widened. “ _You!_ ”

“What?” Thor said, sounding anxious. “What is it?” 

“You _sold_ me!” Loki said, and if perhaps it was a little shrill - he thought he had an excuse. “You sold me to that - _pervert_ for a pile of credits-”

Thor’s head swiveled around. 

“It was a large pile of credits,” she said. 

“You didn’t mention _that,_ ” Thor said, his voice a dangerous rumble. She looked away. 

“Look,” she said. “I didn’t know what Gast was going to do. I just assumed-”

“Assumed what,” Thor said, voice lowering further. “That he was going to be a _contender_ and fight to his death?” 

“I figured he’d do all right! He put up a good fight with the knives and the magic.”

Silence. Loki flexed against the chains still wound tightly around him. “Take these off and I’ll show you _knives and magic_ ,” he snarled. Scrapper-142 looked back and forth between him and Thor, tensing. 

“I’m helping _now,_ aren’t I?” She snapped. “I felt bad, okay? When I saw he’d turned him into a neutered pet-”

Loki heard an indignant, incredulous noise burst from his throat. “You know I am _right here,_ yes?” He glanced down at himself, and jerked again. “What in the Nine am I _wearing?_ And-” He raised his bound hands to grope at his neck. “Did you put a _collar_ on me?” 

Thor was still glaring at Scrapper-142. “I sold you, too, remember?” She said. “You don’t seem so pissed about _that._ ” 

“I was willing to let it go since you freed me,” Thor said, “but Loki’s been here how long, and you didn’t do anything to keep him from being-” He cut off, glancing nervously in Loki’s direction. 

Like he didn’t know. Like he wasn’t excruciatingly, humiliatingly, aware of what he’d spent the last several months doing. 

He felt suddenly both absolutely filthy and overwhelmingly nauseated. 

“Let me out of these,” he said. Thor glanced at the scrapper and she grimaced.

“Stab me and I’ll stab back,” she said, then crouched down and started to undo the chains. Loki glared daggers at her, but she wouldn’t meet his eyes, making it marginally less satisfying. 

As soon as he was free, he bolted for the bathroom and vomited into the toilet. The memory surfaced of the Grandmaster stroking his hair and making sympathetic noises, and he heaved again. 

_A neutered pet. A toy. How he must have laughed knowing…_

Scrapper-142 hadn’t removed the collar around his throat. Loki’s stomach sank and he spat, then stood and stumbled over to look in the mirror. 

The gold band was studded with blue and red stones. It might almost have passed for a necklace, if it didn’t look so much like the collar one might put on a dog. 

Loki almost gagged. Magic surged in him, almost outside his control, and the thing disintegrated into dust. Next to go was the flimsy robe (gold, blue, and red, literally draped in the Grandmaster’s colors) that was all he was wearing. He dropped it in the sink and set it on fire, then lunged for the shower, turning it as hot as he could stand.

_The Grandmaster rubbed against him under streaming water, one arm around Loki’s waist and the other stroking his cock._ Loki slammed a hand against the wall, recognizing that he was hyperventilating and struggling to stop it. He curled his hand into a fist and the crunch of tile breaking, the sting of broken ceramic on his knuckles, jarred him out of it, a little. 

“You’d better not wreck my shower!” He heard Scrapper-142 yell from the other room. 

“Fuck you!” Loki shouted back, wildly, and turned the shower hotter. 

He stumbled out, at length, when his skin was bright red and he was starting to feel dizzy, and after thoroughly inspecting his body for any...unexpected modifications. Summoning his own clothing after drying off thoroughly, he was grateful for thick leather that felt like at least a slight shield. 

He exited to find both Thor and Scrapper-142 staring at him. He tightened his jaw. 

“Better?” Thor asked, sounding tentative.

“Cleaner,” Loki said shortly. _Maybe._ He wasn’t entirely sure that he was ever going to be clean again. He wanted to curl up in a ball in the corner of the room and tell them both to _stop looking at him._

Thor took a small step toward him. “What do you...remember?”

“Enough,” Loki said thickly, taking a step back. His skin crawled. How _quickly_ he’d come undone, succumbed to a cocktail of drugs and magic, was _that_ what he was underneath-

Norns, he wanted his hands around the Grandmaster’s throat. Except some part of him was afraid that if he got close he’d end up falling on his knees and begging for him to take him back. 

“See?” Scrapper-142 said, sounding defensive still. “He’s fine.”

Loki wanted to laugh, a little hysterically. _Fine. Yes. That’s what I am._ Apparently he did not quite have good enough control of his face, though, because Thor’s eyebrows furrowed and the scrapper looked away. 

“Can I…” Thor cleared his throat. “Do you need anything?” 

“Water,” Loki said, then amended, “no, a stiff drink, actually. Something strong.” 

Thor opened his mouth like he was going to object, but Scrapper-142 stood up and tossed him a nearly full bottle. Loki caught it, pulled out the cork with his teeth, and swallowed half of it. 

It tasted like poison. Maybe that would help scour out his insides. Burn off the Grandmaster’s fingerprints.

He was going to be sick again. Loki drained the rest of the bottle and held it loosely in nerveless fingers. Scrapper-142 whistled. 

“That was...impressive,” she said. 

“Don’t talk to me,” Loki said, strained. “Do you know I thought of you as - _trustworthy?_ ” 

“That was stupid,” she said, voice dull. Loki let out a slightly hysteric laugh.

“He did,” he said. “So I did. That simple.” She looked away again. “How often,” Loki asked, his voice starting to vibrate, “did you laugh behind your hand, knowing-”

“I didn’t,” she said harshly. “I didn’t think it was funny. But if I tried to save every damn unlucky fuck who came through here, I’d’ve died a long time ago.” 

“Enough,” Thor said. “Now that Loki is - back, we need to get out of here.”

“We?” Loki said, incredulous. “That _slave-trader_ is coming with us?” 

She rose. “Oh, fuck you, your majesty,” she spat. “What do you know about hard living? About having to compromise everything that matters just to survive?”

Loki flinched, in spite of himself. 

“You know what the choices are, here. I did what it took to stay alive because I didn’t have anything else. Can you say you wouldn’t’ve done the same thing, in my place?” 

Loki couldn’t answer. His throat closed. He had, hadn’t he? Worse, maybe. Not just in the name of survival, but of vengeance. It didn’t quite douse the anger boiling in his stomach, but it did add a second layer of shame.

He didn’t want them here, looking at him. He wanted to run from this place, as far and as fast as he could.

“How do you think we are going to get out of here, anyway,” he said hoarsely.

“We’re going to steal a ship,” Scrapper-142 said simply.

“But _first,_ ” Thor said, giving her a pointed look, “there’s someone else we have to free.”

“Who,” Loki asked, because at least trying to plan distracted him from the fact that he’d just noticed there was a tattoo between his thumb and forefinger. At least it was small. Just a little...heart. Blue ink. 

The Grandmaster had done it himself, exhorting Loki to hold still. He had, shaking a little, but the Grandmaster’s cooing praise made it worth it. 

He was _never_ going to stop throwing up. 

“He’s not going to want to come,” the scrapper said. “He’s happy here.”

Thor’s expression turned stubborn. “I’ll convince him.” 

“Convince who,” Loki asked again. 

Thor glanced at him. “The Hulk is here,” he said. “He’s the Grandmaster’s champion.” 

The Hulk. Ah, yes. Loki vividly remembered their last encounter. Better and better. “Ah,” he said after a moment, wondering if _Thor_ had forgotten. _Can’t we just leave him here,_ he wanted to say, but he recognized the expression of determination on Thor’s face. 

He wondered if Scrapper-142 (it occurred to him that she probably had a name, but he wasn’t about to ask) would give him another bottle of rotgut. 

“And where are we planning on going?” He asked faintly. Thor gave him an odd look.

“Asgard, of course,” he said. “We have to deal with Hela.”

“Deal with _who?_ ” Scrapper-142 said, eyes practically bugging out of her head. Loki resisted the urge to moan.

A part of him wondered, vaguely, if the Grandmaster would take him back.

The rest of him didn’t care if he was going up against Hela with nothing but his bare hands, so long as he was worlds and worlds and _worlds_ away from here.


End file.
